


A Very Mixed Bag: Assorted David/Patrick Ficlets

by codswallop



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anal Fingering, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Canon Related, Caretaking, Common Cold, Declarations Of Love, Domestic Fluff, Edging, Figging, Getting high with Stevie, Hockey, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, M/M, Mild Painplay, Minor Injuries, Missing Scene, Panic Attacks, Pining, Rimming, Rings, Sickfic, Spanking, Teasing, Tenderness, Texting, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Vampire David, Wedding Planning, Werewolf Patrick, Whump, hurt!david, worried!Patrick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-10 10:53:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 10,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20526821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codswallop/pseuds/codswallop
Summary: A collection of David/Patrick ficlets, originally posted on Tumblr.1. Blood (Patrick comes home from playing shinny a little worse for wear) - T2. Promise (David is about to go back to New York for a short visit; Patrick is uneasy) - G3. Jacket (vampire!David prepares for a night out; werewolf!Patrick disapproves of his attire) - T4. Wait (David wants to see if he can make Patrick come on just his fingers) - E5. Love (a text conversation, post-BBQ, pre-Olive Branch) - G6. Fix (David’s pre-wedding nerves are causing some sleepless nights) - G7. Try (orgasm delay/denial) - E8. Look (whump - Patrick and David wait for an ambulance) - T9. Hurt (David, still recovering from his accident, needs something to distract him from the pain) - M10. Regret (David lets Patrick experiment with figging and spanking) - E11. Owe (just before the soft launch, Patrick is a little under the weather) - G12. Everything (Patrick gets eight voice mails, seven from David and one from Stevie) - T





	1. Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter here is its own discrete ficlet with no continuity from the prior one; tags do not apply to all chapters! Ratings range from G to hard E and everything in between.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt, from Olivebranchesandredwine: “Is that blood?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T; contains minor injuries, nothing too descriptive.

“Patrick?” 

Patrick swore under his breath at the sound of David’s voice. He’d told him not to come over; he should have known David would pay no attention, that he’d use his spare set of keys and let himself in no matter what.

“Patrick? Are you home?”

It was useless, but Patrick shut his eyes and waited, staving off the inevitable. David’s voice came closer, higher and more anxious every time he called out. “Patrick! I know you’re here. I can see your wallet on the counter and your hockey gear all over the place and _oh_ my god, is that _blood_?!”

Patrick gave up. “In here,” he said, muffled through the washcloth full of ice he was pressing to his face, and three seconds later the bathroom door was flung open and the light switch flipped on. He squinted up at David’s shocked expression as he took it all in.

“You should see the other guy,” Patrick told him, and tried to laugh.

*

He’d expected a lot of keyed-up fluttering dramatics, but David turned out to be surprisingly calm and practical. Within a few minutes he had Patrick stripped to the waist and sitting up on the toilet seat so he could tend to his wounds and bruises and make sure none of them warranted a trip to the ER. The cut across the bridge of Patrick’s nose was deep and messy, but that was the worst of it; once it was cleaned up and bandaged, he looked a lot less dire. 

“I don’t think it’s broken,” David said doubtfully, probing gently around Patrick’s eye sockets, pressing cool strong fingertips into his cheekbones while Patrick tipped his face up dutifully and tried to hold still. “You’re going to have two black eyes tomorrow, though, I bet. What about your ribs?” His hands moved down to feel Patrick’s chest, his sides, and Patrick shuddered and tried not to groan.

“They hurt,” he admitted. “But I’m pretty sure they’re just...sore. Not cracked.” 

“Yeah?” David looked unconvinced. He put one hand on Patrick’s lower ribs and the other on his back. “Breathe in really deep,” he instructed, watching Patrick’s face as he did it. “Okay, you’re probably right, I think you’re okay. Are you gonna tell me what happened? Whose ass do I need to go kick?”

Patrick tried not to laugh out loud at the idea of David trying to kick anyone’s ass, partly because it might hurt David’s feelings, mostly because laughing was too painful. “It was just...you know. Shinny can get kind of rough sometimes. Tempers run hot, punches get thrown…” 

David leaned back, narrowed his eyes at him, and raised one skeptical eyebrow. “Uh huh. What are you not telling me?”

He was getting good at that. Too good. “Okay, fine, it wasn’t a fight,” Patrick admitted. “I was showing off, skating backwards, and I tripped over someone’s stick and went flying into a tree by the side of the pond.”

Both of the eyebrows were up now. “A tree,” David said, as if unsure whether to be amused or alarmed. “So, when you said I should see the other guy…”

“Oh, that tree’s regretting it now. Pretty sure I left a dent. Or at least some blood. Definitely a mark.”

David frowned. “How hard did you hit it? Were you wearing a helmet at the time?”

“Yes, and I’m not concussed,” Patrick assured him. “The other guys were great—they wouldn’t have let me drive myself home if they’d thought I had a head injury. Just a messed-up face and a bruised chest. And a pretty banged-up ego,” he confessed, because it really had been hellishly embarrassing. His first time out on the ice since moving to Schitt’s Creek, too; he’d probably never live it down. 

“Mmm, I think I have a treatment for that,” David said, pulling Patrick to his feet and leading him out of the room. “We’re going to have to get you out of the rest of those clothes, though. Or are you more in the mood for tea and sympathy right now?”

“No, I definitely think I could use some...some clothes-off treatment,” Patrick said, because the way David had been handling him was doing a very good job of distracting him from the pain. “Can it be administered, uh, orally, maybe?”

“Well. I’m not that experienced in the field of sports ego medicine,” David told him, guiding him gently down onto the bed and opening his jeans, kissing a trail down Patrick’s belly as his hands slid lower. “It might require some internal application as well? We’ll have to see.”


	2. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt, from WellSchitt: “Promise me you’ll come back.”
> 
> Some G-rated schmoopy fluff.

“Just promise me you’ll come back.”

Patrick hadn’t meant to say it. He was a little drunk, probably. David’s flight to New York was at six in the morning, so it was hardly worth going to bed, he’d announced, and they’d stayed up finishing off a second bottle of wine and watching Netflix until all hours. They had gone to bed, too, eventually, but not to sleep.

“I mean,” Patrick said, “I know you haven’t been back there since, it’s been a while, and I know it’s all very exciting there and that’s great, but.” He stopped. He was making it worse. 

David turned to look at him very intently, head pillowed cutely on his hands. His eyes were warm and bright, dancing a little with...amusement, probably, mixed with something else; god, David’s face was so expressive. Patrick couldn’t help it, he hated like hell to think of all of David’s super-fashionable New York acquaintances getting to see those expressions for the next few days, expressions they didn’t even remotely deserve, and Patrick would know nothing about it. 

“But what?” David prompted. 

“But nothing,” Patrick said, and laughed. “What? What was I even saying? It’s three in the morning. I don’t know. You’re gonna have a great time in New York, and that’s great. I want you to have a great time.”

“But not too great,” David said, his voice full of teasing, bubbling happiness. No one was ever happier than a pleased and teasing David Rose. “Because you want me to want to come back. To you.”

Patrick felt flustered. He thought about trying to turn it around, make some goofy backpedaling joke, but then—why not? Why not let David have this? Being wanted. Being needed back. “Yeah,” he said, bravely meeting David’s amused triumphant gaze. “Pretty much, yeah. What’s wrong with that?”

David’s eyes went soft. “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head a little, and reached over to touch Patrick’s face. “Nothing is wrong with that.” He sat up and turned away suddenly, and Patrick wondered if it had been the wrong move after all, but then David turned back and took Patrick’s left hand and slipped something onto his little finger, something cool that glinted. It was one of his thick silver rings.

“There,” David said. “Now I’ve got to come back. Not that I wouldn’t have anyway. And yes, of course I promise.” 

“Thanks.” Patrick held up his hand and touched the ring, admiring it, feeling as though he’d just swallowed something molten that was still spreading all through him, reaching new places he hadn’t even known he possessed. “I’ll keep it safe,” he said, and he didn’t just mean the ring. “I promise, too.”


	3. Jacket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt, from Leupagus: “Take my jacket. It’s cold outside.”
> 
> An AU. Rated T.

“At least take my jacket. It’s cold outside,” Patrick insisted. “I see you forgot yours. Again.”

David looked at Patrick’s jacket, the bulky brown one hanging up on the coat rack next to the door. “Oh,” he said. “Thanks. I’ll be fine. I don’t need another layer. I won’t be out that long.”

Patrick was busy cooking something with a suspicious amount of vegetables in it. He always preferred to eat lightly just before the full moon, he said, but David still found it perverse. “Uh huh. See, you say that, and then it takes you all night to pick out someone to feed on because the first fifty passers-by don’t meet your standards, and finally you end up grabbing whatever you can find about fifteen minutes before sunrise and come dashing back in half frozen and it feels like a block of ice jumping into my bed at six in the morning…”

“Well, I’m sorry for having standards! Toronto is full of unsavoury types these days, and I do mean that very literally. Anyway, I fail to see how your jacket is going to help the situation. In fact, it’ll probably just make things worse. I won’t be able to get anyone to come near enough for me to bite them if I’m wearing that.”

Patrick looked up from the vegetables he was chopping. “What are you trying to say about my jacket, David?” 

“It’s...a very nice jacket,” David hedged, picking up a piece of bok choy, sniffing it, and putting it back down on the cutting board with a conciliatory little pat. “It just happens to smell like werewolf, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Hmm. _Is_ that all you’re saying, though? Besides, I washed it less than a week ago.”

David sighed. “Fine! It doesn’t go with my aesthetic, all right? Look at this!” He gestured to himself, indicating the whole package: the skinny black jeans with carefully ripped knees, the clinging designer sweater in shades of gray and grayer, the glint of tasteful silver jewelry at his pallid wrist and throat. 

“You’re very pretty,” Patrick allowed, leaning over the counter to kiss him, avoiding the silver chains. “But that sweater looks thin for March, and those holes in your pants won’t be doing you any favours. Take the jacket, David.”

“I’m a creature of the night!” David insisted. “I don’t even have a blood flow! I don’t get cold!”

“Then don’t take the jacket, and get out there so you can get in a good warm feed and get into my bed more than an hour before I have to get up and leave for work,” Patrick suggested. “I won’t be home for the next few nights, you know.” He leaned over to kiss David again, then patted him on the cheek. “Have fun, you creature of the night. Hurry home.”

*

David came back to Patrick’s apartment at four in the morning. He let himself in as quietly as he could, fangs chattering, and grabbed Patrick’s jacket from the coat rack, bundling it around himself and shivering into the unfashionable, bulky, Patrick-smelling warmth of it. 

“Come to bed,” Patrick murmured from the other side of the room, and David obeyed. 

“You’re really lucky you don’t have to hunt more than three nights a month,” David said jealously.

“You love it,” Patrick said, and slid warm hands inside the layers of David’s clothing, seeking out skin. He sniffed deeply at the hollow of David’s throat and then licked into his mouth, tasting him, letting out a low growl of appreciation. “You had a good night.”

“It was freezing,” David said, still chattering. “You were right.”

“Take the jacket next time,” Patrick said, climbing on top of him. “I won’t be here to warm you up tomorrow night when you get in.” 

“You’re always right,” David complained. “It’s so obnoxious. I’d bite you right now if I didn’t already know you’d taste like vegetables.”

“You can bite me when I get home,” Patrick murmured into his throat, sniffing and licking at him in earnest now. “My turn tonight,” and proceeded to take what was his.


	4. Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt, from Likerealpeopledo: "I'm willing to wait for it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated E for EXPLICIT. Anal fingering and prostate massage.

On Mondays, the store was closed. In theory, this gave Patrick a chance to catch up on his fantasy sports leagues, David a chance to catch up on sleep, and both of them the chance to catch up on shopping and laundry and other mundane errands.

In actuality, at least half their Mondays were Sex Marathon Days.

On this particular Sex Marathon Monday, it was eleven in the morning and they’d both gone back to bed after a late breakfast. David was too sleepy to put too much effort into it, but he rolled over onto his side and slowly, lazily fisted his own cock while Patrick tucked himself in behind him and fucked his thighs, keeping the pace languid until the very end. Finally, after he’d made himself come, David reached around behind them and pushed a wet fingertip in between Patrick’s cheeks, rubbing at his hole and then suddenly dipping inside, and Patrick gasped and doubled his speed and came all over them both in a matter of seconds.

“Mmmm,” David moaned, and Patrick could hear the cat-in-cream smile in his voice as David arched back against him. “You like that.”

Patrick was still catching his breath. He nodded vigorously into the back of David’s neck. “Yeah,” he said. “I...yes. Yes, David, I like that.”

David withdrew his finger, making Patrick gasp again, and turned so that they were face to face. His eyes were still sleepy, but bright with pleasure now, and Patrick had to kiss him, and kiss him and kiss him all over his face until David was laughing and trying to duck away. 

“I wonder if I could make you come with just my fingers,” David said, his voice low and a little gravelly. “Inside you,” he added, in case it hadn’t been clear, and Patrick shivered, down deep in his spine; he had to catch his breath all over again. 

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I’d be…definitely interested for you to try. It might, uh, take a while,” he added. “I mean, especially right now, since I just…”

“That’s okay,” David said, looking sharper and more wicked. “A little later, then. I’m willing to wait for it. We can take all day.”

*

They started in the afternoon. Patrick had been sitting at the computer, but he was finding it more and more impossible to concentrate on anything; all he could think about was David’s long fingers, opening him and touching and exploring him deep inside, and it was making him squirm. Finally he shut his laptop and went over to the bed, where David was sprawled out reading a book.

“Okay,” Patrick said. “Let’s try it.”

“Try what?” David said, still apparently absorbed in his book, but his eyes gave him away, and the upward twitch of his mouth. 

_“David.”_ Patrick drew the syllables out in almost a whine. He took one of David’s hands away from his book and brought it to his lips, kissing and licking at David’s fingertips. David pushed his index finger into Patrick’s mouth and crooked it against his tongue, and Patrick moaned around it.

“Get your clothes off and lie down on your stomach,” David said, low in his ear, and Patrick was already unbuttoning his shirt before the words were out.

At first it was a little unbearable, when David opened him up and lubed him and teased his rim with his fingertips for long minutes. It wasn’t that Patrick felt any terrible urgency to come, since they’d already had sex that morning, but waiting for more and trying not to move against the mattress began to put him on edge, and he whimpered when David finally pushed a finger slowly inside him and began to fuck him with it. 

“Shh,” David said, stroking his left hand down Patrick’s spine. “Easy, now. We’re just getting started.”

“More,” Patrick suggested—not begged, not yet, but he couldn’t stop his hips from raising up to meet the slow in-and-out motion of David’s finger.

“Hold still,” David admonished, and gave him more. Two fingers, still slow, deeper now, crooked and pressed against his prostate. Patrick felt sweat break out at his temples, and he bit his lip hard.

Half an hour later, he really wanted to come; he’d been close at least twice, but it had ebbed away again each time, and it was getting frustrating. 

“Okay, turn over,” David said finally, withdrawing his fingers and patting him lightly on the behind. “I want to try something else.”

Patrick flopped over onto his back, arm over his eyes to shield them from the light, and from David’s gaze. “Tired already?” 

“Oh, fuck no,” David said. “I could literally tease your gorgeous ass all day and into the night. I think you need a little more than I’m giving you, though, hmm?”

Patrick nodded into his arm. “Please,” he said, his voice cracking. 

“Put your knees up,” David instructed, and reached between Patrick’s legs, sliding two fingers into him again, but this time he also pressed his thumb into Patrick’s perineum. 

“Oh,” Patrick said. His cock jumped and began to leak. “There. Yes. Mm!” 

David put his left hand on Patrick’s lower belly, achingly close to his cock, the back of his hand just brushing it. Patrick wanted him to wrap his hand around it, so badly; he would have come in an instant. Instead, David pressed his left fingers firmly down into Patrick’s lower abdomen, just above his pubic bone, while his right fingers continued to tease at him on the inside. 

_“Oh,”_ Patrick said, feeling warm pleasure build and crest to a peak, not in his dick but all through him. “Oh, oh—David, please, I’m—oh fuck I’m so close please don’t stop, I’m gonna—”

“Yeah, you are, baby,” David said, and moved the fingers that were inside him in a quick vibrating little dab at just the right spot. “Look at you, I knew you could do it, you’re doing so great, just a little more…”

Patrick’s whole body was jerking and trembling and seizing around David’s fingers on him and in him. He’d never come like this before, so slowly and so intensely; it was agony; it was like being drowned under a series of nearly unbearable waves of pleasure. David was saying something, Patrick thought, something soothing, but he couldn’t hear what it was; he was totally focused on David’s hands as they continued to coax the drawn-out orgasm out of him, every tremor, every drop of come that seemed to be flowing out of him in a slow-motion stream.

“Fuck,” Patrick said at last, eyes closed, voice shaking, limp and sodden and totally wrung out. He’d said it out loud, he thought, so that was good; he hadn’t actually swallowed his own tongue.

“That,” David said, “was the most gorgeous fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

Patrick couldn’t open his eyes or move or do anything but try to breathe as David withdrew, kissed him, then went to get a wet cloth and gently cleaned them both up. 

“Worth the wait?” Patrick mumbled incoherently.

“Every last year of it,” David said, curling his body around Patrick's with a contented sigh, and Patrick had to agree.


	5. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompts, from theatrevicki: "This isn't what I wanted." / "I told you not to fall in love with me."
> 
> A missing scene from canon, the night before "The Olive Branch." Rated G.

**David [10:48pm]:** this isn’t what I wanted

Patrick grabbed for his phone when he heard the text message notification; he had been about to switch it off for the night. It was too difficult to sleep, waiting to see if David was going to reply to any of his messages. It was too difficult to sleep anyway, turning things over and over in his mind for the thousandth or the ten thousandth time, regretting everything he’d texted to David ever since Rachel had left. Regretting everything.

**Patrick [10:49pm]:** Okay don’t worry I kept the receipt 

**David [10:50pm]:** no the bracelet is lovely that’s not what I meant  
**David [10:51pm]:** I mean THIS isn’t what I wanted  
**David [10:52pm]:** ...

**Patrick [10:55pm]:** Okay  
**Patrick [10:56pm]:** You’re going to have to be a little more specific 

**David [11:01pm]:** sorry there was a thing with Alexis I’m back  
**David [11:02pm]**: remind me to bill her $75 for the conditioner I just found out she’s been stealing from us

**Patrick [11:03pm]:** I’ll add it to her tab  
**Patrick [11:04pm]:** What isn’t what you wanted

**David [11:06pm]:** sorry she’s still being a b I might have to go kill her brb

Patrick considered various possibilities in the ten minutes that followed. He really didn’t want to move back home. Toronto was much too expensive. He wasn’t sure his car would make it all the way to Edmonton where his best friend from college lived. Quebec, maybe, but he’d have to brush up on his French again, it had been a while…

**David [11:17pm]:** SORRY  
**David [11:17pm]:** Alexis really is a lot stronger than you’d think for someone who lives on cafe smoothies, I’m in a lot of pain rn but I’ll come in to the store tomorrow so we can talk  
**David [11:19pm]:** if that’s okay

**Patrick [11:20pm]:** of course it’s okay  
**Patrick [11:22pm]:** When you said it wasn’t what you wanted did you mean the entire relationship or

**David [11:23pm]:** NO omg Patrick  
**David [11:23pm]:** I meant I didn’t want you to send me all this stuff that’s all

**Patrick [11:25pm]:** Sorry yeah I know it was a bad idea 

**David [11:26pm]:** I mean  
**David [11:27pm]:** I do like the stuff  
**David [11:27pm]:** I don’t know what I mean it’s late I should just shut up  
**David [11:28pm]:** I’m really bad at this  
**David [11:29pm]:** I told you not to fall in love with me

Patrick blinked at his phone for a very long time, staring at the little lit-up screen in the dark and letting dozens of possible responses run through his head. 

**David [11:32pm]:** omg I didn’t mean to say that AT ALL omg this is all Alexis’s fault please ignore the last message DO OVER  
**David [11:33pm]:** I meant I told you you didn’t want to be in a relationship with me not what I just said  
**David [11:34pm]:** I don’t use that word  
**David [11:34pm]:** like, ever  
**David [11:35pm]:** and obviously you’re not I mean I don’t know what I mean it’s late and Alexis is working my last nerve and we should just talk tomorrow  
**David [11:38pm]:** Patrick?

**Patrick [11:39pm]:** I’m still here  
**Patrick [11:39pm]:** It’s fine

**David [11:40pm]:** Good  
**David [11:41pm]:** I really feel like I just wrecked everything I told you I was bad at this

**Patrick [11:42pm]:** You didn’t wreck everything.

**David [11:43pm]:** ok  
**David [11:44pm]:** because we still have to run a business together and that would be awkward  
**David [11:57pm]**: and also bc  
**David [11:58pm]:** …

Patrick stared at the glow of his screen until he thought he would go blind. He knew David had almost certainly fallen asleep while texting, that he wouldn’t be getting another message until the next day, but it was after one before he finally shut off his phone and closed his eyes against the dark.

The words ran around in his brain like an annoying little earworm of a tune: _fall in love, fall in love, in love, I told you not to fall in love_. By the time morning came—he’d probably slept for at least a couple of hours, though it didn’t feel like it—Patrick was sure of two things: 1) He was definitely, completely, head over heels in love with David Rose and 2) He thought he had a chance of making this work out for him after all, if he played his cards right.


	6. Fix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt, from Goodmorninglovelies: "Don't try to fix me. I'm not broken."
> 
> rated G; a pre-wedding panic attack.

“Maybe you should try to get a prescription for something,” Patrick suggested, when David had woken them both up at two in the morning for the third night that week, thrashing and sweating and muttering about canapés, or maybe canopies, or both; it was difficult to say. “Or, is there someone, um, a professional you could talk to about it, or…?”

Were there wedding therapists? Surely there were, in New York or someplace. Probably not around here, though. Not even in Elmdale. 

“I’m talking to you about it,” David said peevishly. He was curled up in a ball against the headboard of the bed, arms clasped tight around his knees, rocking back and forth a little in agitation while Patrick found him a dry t-shirt. “But I’ll stop, if it’s too annoying. I said I was sorry for waking you up again.”

“Hey,” Patrick said, bringing the fresh shirt over and handing it to him. “Don’t. I’m just, you know, I’m worried about you, the wedding’s not for another month and I don’t want you to stress yourself to death before the honeymoon. You can talk to me any time, obviously, but I’m not sure if it’s doing any good, so I thought maybe…”

David stripped off the damp shirt he’d been sleeping in, but didn’t put on the one Patrick had brought him yet. Patrick cast a quick critical look over the bones of his shoulders. David had lost weight, Patrick knew, partly on purpose to look good in the wedding photos, but maybe partly not on purpose. He looked too thin to Patrick now, and he wasn’t sure what to say about it. Nothing right now, that was certain. 

“Would you stop—Don’t try to fix me. I’m not broken,” David snapped. “It’s just stress! Pre-wedding nerves! It’s a thing!” 

“Okay,” Patrick said neutrally. It was good to hear, he guessed, in a way. Definitely better than _damaged goods_; he was glad David didn’t think of himself that way anymore. “I’m sorry. You know me. I’m a fixer. I try to solve everything, and it’s hard when I can’t, that’s all.”

“I know.” David buried his face in his knees and wrapped his arms around them more tightly. He looked miserable, all wound up around himself, as if he were trying to shrink away into nothingness. “I’m sorry, too. I know you’re trying to be helpful. Just...agh!” He shook his head, still keeping his face tucked away out of sight. “I wish we could just...call the whole thing off and elope! Can we?” he asked hopefully, looking up at Patrick suddenly.

Patrick gave him a small smile. “We can,” he said. “Of course we can. We could probably even get a lot of stuff canceled still, at this point, although we’d lose the deposits. Is that what you want?” 

David looked away.

“We can,” Patrick pressed. “We really can. I’ll take care of it. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. Spending the rest of my life with you—that’s the only part that matters to me.”

David was still staring off into the middle distance, looking thoughtful, and Patrick felt something drop in his stomach with a jolt. “Unless it’s not just the wedding part that’s giving you nightmares,” he said. “I mean. If that’s the case…”

“No!” David uncurled himself whip-fast and wrapped himself around Patrick. “Honey. No. It’s _not_ that. That part’s not stressful at _all_. Trust me.”

“Well, good,” Patrick said, feeling shaky. “That’s good.” He kissed David’s bare shoulder, felt goosebumps against his lips, and reached for the t-shirt he’d brought over. “Come on, put this on,” he said, and David let him pull it over his head and guide his arms into the sleeves. “So. Cancel everything but the rings and the honeymoon? Is that really what you want?”

David sighed. “No,” he admitted, and Patrick was relieved. He’d have done it, he really would, but he was looking forward to the wedding, personally: getting to stand up in front of everyone and declare themselves, celebrate this thing they’d made—and it would be beautiful, too, he knew, despite all of David’s second-guessings and misgivings. “I do want the wedding,” David said. “I just want it to be perfect.”

“Well, it won’t be.” Patrick stretched back out on the bed and pulled David gently down against his chest. “Let’s go from there. It will definitely not be perfect. At least six small things and one major thing are going to go wrong.”

David shuddered in his arms. “That’s the worst thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Really? I can’t believe that. I’ll have to work harder. It’s true, though.” Patrick didn’t say the obvious, which was that it would still be the best day of his life. “Kind of freeing, isn’t it?”

“No.” David shuddered again and curled up more tightly against him. “It’s like a horror story. Tell me more. What’s going to go wrong?”

So Patrick held him and told him the worst version possible of what the best day of his life was going to be like, working up from relatively minor disasters like rain and incorrect flower deliveries, up through drunk relatives, lost rings, food poisoning, and finally into really wild scenarios: wedding-crashing exes, escaped convicts, marauding farm animals, a plague of locusts…

David was laughing softly by the time Patrick came to the locusts, and then he was asleep, turning heavy against him without warning, his breathing deep and regular.

_Fixed,_ Patrick thought with tired satisfaction, and it didn’t matter if it wouldn’t hold for long; he was pretty sure he’d be able to do it again.


	7. Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt, from thisisnotnothing: “I’d like to see you try.”
> 
> This is another smutty one. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains: orgasm delay, mild d/s elements, rimming, barebacking

“David, I can’t,” Patrick begged, sometime in the second hour. “I can’t, I can’t take it anymore, I need—oh god I’m going to come this time, I can’t, can’t stop it, I’m—” 

David’s hands left him at once, and Patrick’s cock throbbed against empty air, but the orgasm receded again; he was so near to the edge that he almost tipped over, and a single drop of precome welled up from his slit as he trembled and sobbed.

“Shh, baby.” David kissed him on the temple, his hands gentle on Patrick’s face, as if they weren’t the instruments of torture he’d revealed them to be for the past eighty or ninety minutes. “You’re doing so well, I can’t believe you made it this long; can you take it for another half hour? I didn’t hear a safeword yet, did I?”

“N-no,” Patrick got out, and then laughed deliriously. “Oh god. Why did I agree to this, why are we doing this, you’re insane, we’re insane, why?”

“Because it’s going to feel so good when I finally let you come,” David murmured, low and filthy-sexy, letting the vibration of his words brush against Patrick’s ear. “And because you’re so hot like this, letting me do this to you, I just want to keep edging you forever.” One of his hands moved down to Patrick’s chest, rubbing in slow gentle circles. “Okay, breathe,” he said, sounding less sexy now, maybe even a little concerned. “You’re not going to have a heart attack, are you?”

“I don’t...think so,” Patrick gasped. “A-plus cardiac fitness, as of my last checkup. I’ve never had a stress test like this, though.”

“Do you need some water?” 

“I need to _come_,” Patrick said. His cock felt like iron, and his balls were aching with heaviness. “I’m gonna explode.”

“No, you’re not. Not till I say. Okay, hands and knees, one more time,” David said, turning brisk again. “Maybe twice. Let’s see if you can make it twice more. I won’t touch your cock this time; I’m just going to put my tongue in your ass and eat you out until you scream. Let me know when you’re close so I can stop.”

Patrick whined in protest, but he got into position; he couldn’t bring himself to admit defeat. Had it really only been an hour and a half? It felt like a year ago that David had suggested it, this senseless challenge that had sealed his torturous fate, with his hands running lazily up inside Patrick’s t-shirt and down his pajama pants: _I just want to touch you all over, my hands and my mouth all over your body, just keep you right here and not let you come for at least two hours until I’ve had my fill, could you do that?_ And Patrick had laughed, foolishly: _Sure, but I bet you can’t. I’d like to see you try, though._

He thought he might be okay this time. David’s long clever tongue felt amazing on him and in him, licking and teasing, but at least nothing was touching his dick. Patrick was zen; he was calm; he was thinking about baseball stats, and the Jays’ chances in the playoffs this season. He could definitely keep this up for another half hour, he was almost sure, and then David reached up beneath him and pinched one of his nipples and _moaned_ into his ass, tonguing him deep and messy, and Patrick—he didn’t scream; it wasn’t a scream, but it was loud, anyway, and David pulled away and soothed him again with a gentle slow-circling hand on his back while Patrick hung his head down and watched his cock jerk against nothing, dripping onto the bedsheets. 

“Fuck,” he said. “David. Please, please, please—” 

“All right,” David said indulgently, sounding entirely satisfied with himself. “Turn back over. Come on, I’ll help you.”

He got Patrick over onto his back again and climbed up onto him, kneeling up and straddling his hips, keeping a reassuring hand in the center of Patrick’s chest. “Poor baby,” he said. “You’ve been _so_ good for me. You want to come now? You’re sure?”

Patrick made a sound that he hoped sounded like assent. 

“How do you want to do it?”

“In you,” Patrick said hoarsely. “I want to put it in you, make you take it, fill you up with my come, I’m gonna—David, _right now_, get on my cock and take it,” and he watched David’s chest hitch, watched him shut his eyes and bite his lip and shiver. Patrick looked up at him with naked longing. With his chin tipped up and his whole chest and throat on display, David looked like a drink of water at the end of a long thirsty hike through dry terrain. 

“O-okay,” David agreed. “Yes. I can—yes, Patrick, yes, oh my god, let me just—”

The two minutes that it took for David to find the lube were the longest ones of the entire two hours, Patrick thought, but he got it out, finally, and jammed it into Patrick’s hands. “I don’t need a lot of prep,” David said. “Hurry.” 

Patrick, desperate as he was, had to laugh. “_Now_ you want to hurry,” he said, and he wanted to make David wait just to spite him, but he couldn’t; he just couldn’t. He wasn’t going to rush it too much, though, because no matter what David said, he wasn’t going to fuck him until he was open and ready for it. 

“This has been hurting me almost as much as it’s hurt you, you know,” David said, arching his back as Patrick pushed a finger into him. 

“I really, really doubt that, David. Slow down, don’t—”

“Another one,” David said, rocking impatiently on his finger, and reached back to push one of his own into himself alongside Patrick’s.

“Jesus,” Patrick breathed. “I’m gonna come before I get it in you, please, just a minute, all right?”

When David finally sank down onto him, Patrick closed his eyes tightly and clamped his jaw shut, clamped his whole body down around the feeling of being enveloped at last by all that tight slick heat. “Yes,” David moaned. “Oh god. Patrick. Feels so good, you feel so good inside me. All of you, yes, make me take it, give it to me now.“

“No, stop,” Patrick said. “Don’t, I can’t—it’s gonna be over in a second if you don’t, shh—don’t move, wait—”

“I want it,” David insisted, and began to rock on him, fucking himself on Patrick’s cock. “Thought you wanted it too—mm! So good, Patrick, give me—don’t you want to come like you’ve been begging to?”

He did, of course, and yet. There was some part of him that didn’t, that wanted this to last another five minutes, maybe another hour, maybe all day. Or forever, forever would be okay: held here on the trembling knife-edge of ecstasy with David touching and teasing and surrounding him and loving every inch of him into oblivion.

“Come on, baby,” David said. “You can do it now. Come for me,” and Patrick opened his eyes wide, took in a shocked gasp of air, and obeyed.


	8. Look

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompts, from cinnaluminum: "Don't look at me like that." / "Look at me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurt-comfort with injuries requiring emergency care, but nothing too graphic, and he's gonna be okay.

“Don’t,” David slurred. “Don’t look at me like that, Patrick. I’m fine.”

“Yep, you are,” Patrick agreed. “Just don’t...don’t try to move, okay? The ambulance should be here any minute. What were you doing up on the roof, anyway?” 

He didn’t care what David had been doing on their new house’s roof, not really; he cared about keeping him talking. He cared about hearing David’s voice, and maybe reassuring them both that his brains hadn’t been scrambled too badly by the fall. 

David looked blank, vague-eyed, and Patrick was afraid he was going to pass out again, or that he was about to come out with something totally incomprehensible, like the first few strings of syllables he’d uttered when Patrick had finally gotten him to open his eyes and respond to the sound of his voice. 

“Gutters,” David mumbled, and Patrick was concerned again, but there was more: “Needed cleaning. You said.”

“I didn’t mean by _you_.” Patrick bent to kiss him fiercely between the eyes. “I meant we should call someone, you idiot. You’re afraid of heights! What made you think you could take on the gutters?”

“My dad does the motel ones all the time,” David’s voice was sounding a little stronger now, a little pissed off, which was, Patrick thought, the best thing he’d ever heard. “He’s, like, seventy. And they’re _our_ gutters. I wanted to take care of our house. Myself.”

“Uh huh, well, that worked out well for you. Now you’ll get out of all the home maintenance duties for weeks while you recover, and guess who gets stuck with them in the meantime?”

“Yeah. Sorry,” David whispered. 

“I’m _teasing_,” Patrick said. “Don’t tell me you hit your head so hard you can’t tell when I’m teasing. Idiot.” He closed his eyes and leaned over to rest his forehead lightly against David’s. When was that fucking ambulance going to show up? It must have been at least half an hour since he’d come home to find his husband crumpled and broken on the back patio. He hadn’t known whether David was dead or alive when he’d dialed 911, hands and voice shaking so badly that he wasn’t sure how he’d managed to complete the call. 

“I’m okay, baby,” David told him, and his hand came up to cradle the back of Patrick’s head, petting him clumsily. “Don’t.”

“Any minute now,” Patrick said again, mostly to himself. “How’s...are you in a lot of pain, is it bad?”

“Not too bad,” David said. “Hey. Look at me.” 

Patrick raised his head and looked at him. David’s face was almost totally drained of colour; even his lips had gone pale. 

“Tell me the truth,” he said to Patrick, very seriously. “My Amiri jeans. Are they gonna make it?” 

Patrick let out a surprised laugh, a little burst of released tension. “Yeah, I don’t know about that,” he said. “I know they had some rips in them to begin with, but…” He glanced down and drew in a sharp breath, then quickly looked back up to ground himself in David’s eyes again. “Your leg’s _really_ broken, sweetheart, they’re probably going to have to cut them off you.” 

“Fuck,” David said, and tried to laugh. “I knew I should have borrowed some of yours.”

They could hear the sound of the ambulance siren, then, and Patrick nearly choked with relief. 

David gripped his hand tightly. “You’ll stay with me, right?” he pleaded, suddenly panicky. “They’ll let you stay?”

“They have to,” Patrick told him, returning the squeeze carefully. “Married, remember? Or did that get knocked out of your head, too?”

“Never,” David said. “Idiot,” and Patrick bent to kiss him again, dizzy in the flashing red of their arriving rescue.


	9. Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt, from Nervouscupcakeinspace: "I know it hurts."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the previous ficlet, with less whump and more blowjobs.

“I know it hurts,” Patrick said, with commendable patience, he thought. It was the morning after he’d brought David home from the hospital and installed him back in their bed, clunky leg cast and all, with instructions to keep him as immobile as possible for another week. He’d expected the first night to be pretty bad, and it had met and surpassed his expectations. “You can have some more medication in another hour.”

“But it _really_ hurts,” David whined. “Those dosage recommendations, they’re really just guidelines, right?”

“Mmm, not really, no. I’ll give you the pills at eight-thirty, and then I’ve got to leave you and go open the store; Alexis promised to come by at lunchtime with something to eat and give you the next dose then.”

“Alexis? As if. She’ll forget. Probably on purpose. Or she’ll give me the wrong thing and poison me to death. Just think of the terrible remorse you’ll suffer when you come home and find me—” David broke off at the set look on Patrick’s face.

“Yeah, let’s maybe not joke about that for a while?” Patrick said, and his voice came out higher than usual and a little shaky.

“I’m sorry,” David said instantly. “Patrick, honey, I’m sorry. I know. Come here.”

Patrick went to him and got back onto the bed, curling up against him, head on David’s chest. He did hate to leave him. He wanted to stay there all day, with his ear pressed to the reassuring thud of David’s heartbeat, lulled by the rise and fall of his ribs as he breathed. But the store’s hours had been irregular enough for the past week and a half while he’d been going back and forth to Elmdale for visiting hours, and it was really time to get back into a regular routine.

“That was really, really insensitive of me,” David said, playing with Patrick’s hair. “And I wouldn’t have said it, if I hadn’t been in such terrible, indescribable, utterly excruciating pain, oh my god, you have no idea what this feels like. How about more pills in half an hour?”

“Forty-five minutes,” Patrick bargained, wondering if there were any chance he could get David to drift off again in that time. It had been a very sleepless night for both of them. He sat up. “Can I get you anything else? Tea? Ice cream for breakfast? Sexy sponge bath? ”

David sighed. “I’m not thirsty or hungry, and the sexy sponge bath will just get me all riled up.”

“Yeah?” Patrick trailed his hand down David’s abdomen, letting it rest just at the waistband of his cut-off sweatpants (a pair of Patrick’s, actually, sacrificed for the cause). “We can take care of that, I think.”

David shook his head restlessly. “Not good enough. I need you to fuck my brains out, fuck me up, give me your cock until I can’t think anymore—”

“Jesus, David.” Patrick blinked. “Where’d this come from?” He felt himself twitch and harden a little, to his surprise; fucking had sort of been the last thing on his mind lately, but all of a sudden his dick seemed to remember that it existed and that it had been extremely neglected for the last ten days. _Settle down,_ he told it sternly. 

“I’ve been trapped in bed for days and days with nothing to do but think,” David pointed out. “The after-hours sneaky handjobs in the hospital were very nice of you, but I can’t remember the last time I went this long without your cock. I miss it.”

Patrick had to smile. “It misses you, too,” he said. “Trust me. But I think fucking’s going to be off the table for a while longer.”

“Just let me see it,” David suggested. “I just want to say hi.”

“No!” Patrick laughed. “What’s with you? What happened to being in such terrible pain?”

“I am in pain. So much pain. So you should be doing whatever you can to distract me right now. Like getting your cock out and letting me touch it for a while...maybe have a taste, while I’m at it, just a few little licks…”

Patrick closed his eyes and shuddered. He was definitely getting hard.

“Yeah,” David said, stretching the word out. “Come on, let me,” and he pushed himself up on one elbow to reach for the rapidly growing tent in Patrick’s boxers. 

“Uh-uh.” Patrick pushed him back down gently. “Lie down. Bed rest, remember? As immobile as possible.”

“Okay, so.” David lay back, all obedience, but his eyes were dark and wicked. “You’ll have to bring it here. Take off your underwear, and get up here and feed me your cock.”

“Oh my god.” Patrick’s voice cracked, along with his resolve. 

“I need it,” David begged, dragging his fingertips down Patrick’s torso as far as he could reach without sitting up again, plucking at his t-shirt, grazing the sensitive skin of his sides. “Please, I need to see you, wanna taste you, wanna feel you against my tongue, I want it in my mouth, please, Patrick, Patrick—”

“Okay, stop, stop, just—fuck!” Patrick pushed David’s questing hands away and held on to them while he took a couple of slow, deliberate breaths. “You’re going to make me come in my pants if you keep talking like that. David. I want that, of course I do, but I...I don’t want to hurt you.”

“So take it slow.” David was giving him the sassy one-sided grin of knowing he was about to get exactly what he wanted. “Slow as you can. Make it last. Forty-five minutes, right? How long do you think you can keep me distracted, hmm?”

*

Patrick lasted fifteen, and it was a feat of superhuman effort. He straddled David’s chest, bracing himself against the headboard of the bed, thighs trembling with the effort not to put his weight down. Then, at last, he let David touch and taste, let him lick delicately up the length of his cock and then suck gently on the head, humming with pleasure while Patrick’s eyes rolled back and he fought for control. He pulled away, though, when David gripped his ass with both hands and tried to get him to fuck into his mouth. 

“I thought you wanted it to last,” Patrick gasped. “God, I’m going to come in another minute, I can’t, it’s too—oh god, David, you feel so good, I missed you so much.”

“I’m here,” David reassured him. “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere, you’ve got me in this bed for a whole nother week and you can use me however you want, let me have you, I want you inside me, come on—” His hands gripped Patrick’s hips again and pulled him closer, and this time Patrick let himself be drawn in fully, crying out and clinging to the headboard for dear life as he came and came into the wet swallowing heat of David’s throat.

“I can’t believe I just did that,” Patrick said, when he could speak in sentences again and had collapsed over onto his back. David hadn’t wanted to release him; he’d kept Patrick in his mouth, sucking gently and rhythmically and moaning with pleasure around him as he softened, until the overstimulation had been too much and Patrick had begged him to stop. “You’re okay? I didn’t hurt you?”

David gave a deep, sleepy sigh of satisfaction. “Feeling no pain,” he murmured, only a little bit raspily. “Just what the doctor ordered.”

“Wow,” said Patrick, still dazed and tingling all over. “Magic medicinal cock? That’s all you needed? I guess we can toss the rest of the Vicodin, then.”

“Oh, no,” David said quickly. “We’re keeping the Vicodin. Cock is just a useful supplement.”

“Hmm. So, your turn?” Patrick reached for him, but David caught his hand and brought it up to his chest, placing his own over it. 

“In a little bit.” David yawned. “Maybe tonight. Sleepy right now.” His eyes were already closing, and Patrick felt David’s whole body relax against him in a way it hadn’t throughout the whole long previous night of restless pain. 

Let the store open a little late again today, Patrick decided, letting the heaviness of his own eyelids win over as his breathing evened out to match David’s. Maybe one more hour. What could it hurt?


	10. Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by fengirl88, "I immediately regret this decision."
> 
> This chapter is rated E and contains figging, aka anal insertion of a ginger plug, spanking, d/s elements.

“I immediately regret this decision,” David said into his hands, covering his entire face. He wished he could cover his whole body, which was warm and blushing with the weirdest mixture of arousal and embarrassment as Patrick spread him open and pressed the thick plug of ginger against his hole. That would have defeated the entire scene, though, he supposed.

“You can use your safeword any time,” Patrick reminded him. “Come on, relax for me, let it in. I don’t want to hurt you more than I have to, here.”

“I thought hurting me was like, the entire point of this, actually,” David said, kind of brattily, which was appropriate for the position he was in: turned face-down and naked on the bed, ass up over Patrick’s knees.

“The point is to make you give in and take what I’m giving to you without tensing up.” One of Patrick’s hands went to David’s lower back, rubbing in soothing circles. “But if you want it to hurt more, you can play it your way. Up to you. How does it feel so far?”

David squirmed a little against the intrusion of the ginger, which was just breaching him. It didn’t feel that different yet than anything else he’d ever penetrated himself with, but he knew that the slight burning sensation would only continue to build, and he was equally fearful and excited. He’d heard of figging before, obviously, but he’d never imagined trusting anyone enough to do it to him. “Green light,” he said, muffled in his hands again, not really wanting to admit it.

“Good,” Patrick said, and slowly, very slowly, began to push the plug in deeper, taking his time. “That’s it,” he encouraged David, who was forcing himself to take deep breaths. “All the way in. Good boy. Can you count out loud while I spank you? Let’s see how you’re doing after ten.”

Ten was nothing. David always purely loved the first ten strokes of a spanking, especially with a plug in. Patrick’s hands were sure and firm and steady; he had really learned how to administer a good hard solid spank without hesitation, and each stinging smack jarred the plug inside him and sent delicious thrills all through David’s nerve endings. 

“Five,” David counted, thinking that really, this ginger thing wasn’t at all as advertised; it was a little warm, a little extra zingy, but nothing he couldn’t take in stride. “Six—oh!” The sixth spank was much harder than the last few had been, and David tensed automatically around the ginger and then gasped. 

“Thought you could use a bit of a change-up.” Patrick sounded amused. “Feeling it now?” 

David tensed up again, clenching his hole on purpose this time, and then relaxed it instantly; the sensation was intense. “Well, _that’s_ a lot,” he said breathlessly. “Wow. Yeah. Mmm.”

“I’m going to keep going,” Patrick warned him, and when David didn’t say anything, he delivered an even harder spank. “Let me hear you, David.”

“S-seven,” David got out, and then “Eight!” on a yelp. “Oh my god. Oh, wow. Yeah, that burns.”

“Too much?”

“No. Give me ten. I want ten.”

“Relax, then,” Patrick admonished, and pressed down gently on David’s lower back. “Can you try?”

David shut his eyes and breathed out slowly. Un-tensed. The burning eased. 

_Nine_ made tears come to his eyes, and he could hardly get out the word _Ten_. His cock was throbbing-hard, but he couldn’t fuck against Patrick’s lap; he couldn’t keep still, though, trembling and tensing and fluttering around the burning, punishing plug that felt at least three times larger now than it had when Patrick had slid it into him. 

“I think you’re done,” Patrick decided, and pulled the ginger out of him without waiting for David’s agreement. “Let me see?” He pulled David’s cheeks apart slightly. “Mm, yeah, you’re really red, a little bit swollen, too; better let me take care of that.” In another minute he’d slid out from under David’s body and was lying between his legs, soothing the burning sensations with his lips and tongue.

David’s brain short-circuited, and before he could figure out how to shift up to get a hand on his cock, he was coming, shouting out, clenching down on Patrick’s soft sweet flickering tongue.

“You said something about regrets?” Patrick said, with laughter in his voice.

“I’m doing it to you next,” David managed. “Then you’ll see.”


	11. Owe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompts, from Justplainsomething: “Come here.” / “You owe me.”
> 
> (A little bit of sickfic, set during late s3, rated G)

“Hey,” David said. “Come here a sec.”

Patrick put down the jars he was labeling and did it without thinking, because his brain had decided that he was David Rose’s lapdog, apparently, but he was annoyed. “Kind of busy, David,” he said. “If we want to make this soft launch of yours happen, we still have a lot to do. Which reminds me, when are you going to call the—”

“Shh, shut up,” David said, then, “I don’t mean shut _up_ shut up. I mean your voice sounds terrible. And you look like you’re... Are you feeling okay?”

“Oh,” Patrick said, embarrassed. “Just a bad cold. I can push through it. I’ve been washing my hands pretty much nonstop, so you don’t have to worry too much about germs, and I’ll, uh, try not to breathe in your direction.”

“Oh my god, shut _up,_” David repeated. “I actually mean shut up this time. It hurts to listen to you. Come here, let me see.”

Patrick took a hesitant step closer to him, confused—he _was_ here, wasn’t he?—but David closed the distance between them and pressed the back of his hand to Patrick’s cheek, frowning, and then his forehead.

“You’re warm,” he concluded, stepping away and going back to rearranging the body milks for the dozenth time. “Go home.”

Patrick just stood there, foolishly, trying to collect the bits of his mind that were fluttering around and beating their wings in a panic against the inside of his skull from having been casually touched on the face by David Rose. “Uh,” he said. “Really, it’s okay, I was just going to pop a couple of ibuprofen and soldier on, there’s so much to do, and I’d rather—or I could get a filter mask, if you’re worried about—” David looked up at him, and he stopped talking.

“Go home, Patrick,” David said. “You’re sick. We can delay the launch if we have to.”

“We’ve already been announcing it, though,” Patrick protested, and he didn’t know why he was arguing so much. He felt like hell. 

“Okay, as cute as it is to watch you try to pretend that you’re not dead on your feet right now, I really have to insist,” David said, and Patrick felt his ears begin to ring. Cute? Had he really said cute? David said a lot of things were cute, and at least half the time it was sarcastic. Still, he’d never said it about Patrick before. _Cute._

David was saying something else now, though, frowning and taking a step back toward him again. “You’re actually looking super flushed, are you...you should sit down; do you need a ride back to Ray’s?”

“No,” Patrick said quickly, even though part of him was thinking he might actually just collapse from sheer dizziness. If he did, David would definitely touch him again; he’d look even more worried than he did now; he’d help Patrick up and give him a ride home and then maybe he’d need help up the stairs to his room, and… “You’re right, though, I should go, I think I am coming down with something.” _A crush,_ his brain supplied, unhelpfully.

“Okay. Good.” David still looked concerned. “Get some rest, please. I need you in tip-top shape. For the launch, I mean.”

“Will do,” Patrick managed, backing toward the door. “Um. We haven’t talked about sick time; I’ll just take a half day out of my paycheck for now, I guess.”

“Don’t worry about that.” David looked embarrassed now, and a little bit...flirtatious? “Let’s just say you owe me.”

_I could buy you dinner sometime,_ Patrick almost said. He could have said it. He might still say it. He might, he could, he was going to, and his heart was pounding, his head was so light—

Patrick sneezed, explosively and almost without warning; he’d barely had time to bring his arm up to his face and sneeze into his elbow. “Ugh,” he said. “Sorry. I’m going now before I spread the plague.” 

David didn’t look nearly as disgusted as Patrick would have expected. “Sure you don’t need a ride?”

“I’m sure,” Patrick said quickly, because he needed to blow his nose really badly, and it was going to be the opposite of cute. “Uh, thanks. I’m sure I’ll be fine by tomorrow if I take it easy today.”

“Well, call me,” David said. “If...I mean. Take care of yourself. I really do need you. For the launch,” he repeated. 

“For the launch,” Patrick agreed. He was definitely feverish; his whole body felt aflame. “See you...see you tomorrow, David. I owe you.”

Next time, he promised himself, as he fumbled his way into his car and pressed his burning forehead against the cool steering wheel. As soon as he felt better. He was definitely going to do it next time.


	12. Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt, by Sonlali: "You're everything to me."
> 
> T-rated fluff, contains recreational drug use

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major thanks to Nervouscupcake for helping me brainstorm this scenario!

There were eight voicemails on Patrick’s phone when he got out of rehearsal, and his heart leapt into his throat as he pictured car accidents and heart attacks, robberies and electrical fires. He shouldn’t have shut off his phone at all, but it was the first read-through, and he’d wanted to look professional for the Elmdale Players, since they’d been kind enough to cast him as Billy Flynn in their production of _Chicago_ as his debut role with their group. 

Seven of the messages were from David, and one was from Stevie. Patrick was about to hit Call Back when a text flashed up on his screen.

**David: [10:31 pm]** Do not repeat do NOT listen to the voicemails please erase them all rn please

**Patrick: [10:31 pm]** Is everything okay?????

**David: [10:32pm]** It’s fine sorry I have to kill Stevie tho can you find out for me good places to dispose of a body in Elm County and also DO NOT LISTEN TO THE VOICE MAILS ESPECIALLY STEVIE’S she is a lying liar who lies

**Patrick: [10:34 pm]** Yeah sorry I have to go listen to these voicemails now brb 

He ignored the furious buzz of incoming messages that followed and pressed play on the first voicemail.

“Hi, Patrick, this is David—oh _fuck_ I fucked it up already.”

The second voicemail: “Hi, David, this is Patrick. Which, obviously, it isn’t, but I thought it would be funny and romantic to send you a voicemail as an homage to the first time I ever called you, which it would have been if I hadn’t fucked it up the first time. Okay, bye.”

Voicemail three: “I should have said in the last voicemail that it was really Stevie who fucked it up by distracting me, which she’s still trying to do RIGHT NOW, incidentally—” (Patrick could hear Stevie’s voice, in the background, going _Hiiiiiii Patriiiiiick_, sounding very, very stoned) “—so I’mma go somewhere else so I can finish this very personal call IN PRIVATE.”

Four: “Okay, it’s me again, um, obviously, and I just wanted to say that Stevie and I have been having a really great night getting stupid and talking about, uh, stuff, and I miss you and I hope you’re having a great time being Richard Gere, you’re gonna be so great, they’re really lucky to have you and so am I. Lucky to have you. So lucky. And I miss you. Wait, I’m pretty sure I said that already. Okay, I’m a little bit fucked up, and I should probably go see what Stevie’s doing right now becau—” The fourth voicemail cut off mid-word.

The fifth voicemail was from Stevie, breathless and nearly unintelligible through her own laughter and through David’s loud protests in the background. “Hi, Patrick, this is Stevie and I think you need to know that David told me earlier tonight that you are _everything_ to him. He said that to me, in those words. Tonight. To my ears. And I know he’s not big on sincere professions, so I wanted you to hear it, at least from me since he’ll never have the balls to say it to your face, direct quote—Ow! Ow! David, stop, you dirty motherf—” 

The sixth was David again. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. Please ignore—Stevie, shut up or I will _end you_, I fucking swear to god. Please ignore the message that she sent you, which is completely not true, never happened, totally out of context, and also I’m so high right now I honestly don’t know what I’m saying, so. Yeah. Bye!”

The seventh: “Um. Okay. It’s not _not_ true. Because you are. Everything. To me. And I’m not ashamed of that. Although it was super cheesy of me to say so and I probably wouldn’t have, in those words, if I weren’t kind of fucked up, but I should, because you are, and you should know it.” 

And the last, eighth voicemail: “Mmm, that’s, like, a ton of pressure to put on anyone, though? So I just want to say you’re not _literally_ everything because I do have, you know, other things in my life, like...I don’t know, my stupid family, I guess, and the store, although to be fair a lot of that is also you, and...okay, I would have said Stevie except that she is literally sitting here laughing— Really? You’re just gonna? Laugh…_in_ my face, yep, that’s what she’s doing right now, and you know what? Fine. Erase this entire night, erase all these voicemails, I take everything back, and I’m sorry but I have to go and commit murder now, bye honey, I love you, you can visit me in prison, I guess, or something. So. _Ciao._”

That was the end of the voicemails.

Patrick hit the Call Back button. “Hi,” he said, when David picked up. 

“Oh my god. Hi. Um. Fuck. You listened to them, didn’t you?”

“Oh, yeah. Having a fun night with Stevie?”

“No,” David said. “I hate Stevie. Please don’t make fun of me.”

“I won’t,” Patrick told him. “I would never.”

“You do! All the time!”

“And yet,” Patrick mused. “You still think I’m…”

“Don’t! Do not. This is so unfair.”

“Okay, okay. Is Stevie still with you? And still alive?”

“Yes,” David said, sulkily. “She’s alive. For now,” he added loudly, obviously for Stevie’s benefit.

“That’s good. Tell her I said thanks. You know, for...everything.”

“Oh my god.”

“You’re everything to me, too, David,” Patrick said. “Go drink some water, okay?”

“Um,” said David. “Yes. That’s...okay. Yes. I’m still gonna need you to erase those voicemails.”

“Never in this life,” Patrick said. “See you tomorrow, love. Good night.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m Codswalloping on Tumblr if anyone wants to come by and yell at me there.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] A Very Mixed Bag: David/Patrick Tumblr [Pod]ficlets](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20795351) by [olive2pod (olive2read)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/olive2read/pseuds/olive2pod)


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